My dialectical 2020 (for the history books)

I began writing this traditional New Years reflection post on the day that the Buffalo Bills won their first division title since 1995. “A historic year for the Bills,” my husband kept telling me excitedly. It has been a historic year, indeed.

I spent many moments throughout 2020 wondering how it will be written in future history books. In July, I stumbled across an article in The Atlantic about a historian who had similar curiosities. In his piece, James West Davidson imagines what high schoolers might read one day about this momentous time, highlighting ways the merging crises of the Covid-19 pandemic and institutional racism threatened the health, wealth, and democratic republic within the U.S.

Both the coronavirus pandemic and the protests for racial justice hit home because they seemed urgent, matters of life and death. “I can’t breathe,” chanted marchers, echoing George Floyd’s cry of pain. COVID-19, too, denied life’s breath. Though 2020 may have been the breaking point for America’s public-health system and the country’s institutionalized racism, these twin crises had been building over decades, if not longer.

James West Davidson

My chapter in this future history book would highlight the dialectic of gratitude and grief. The year brought with it unexpected pain and suffering. I’ve also been grateful for the way it challenged us to be still – or more appropriately, to be. As a clinical therapist, I often teach about the benefits of dialectical thinking, or allowing two opposite truths to exist simultaneously. Dialectics teach us that there’s always more than one way to see a situation and to solve a problem.

One way to do this is to replace the conjunction “but” with “and” in everyday life. This helps to reduce concrete thinking. So, in 2020, I felt gratitude and I felt grief. I experienced both, felt both intensely, and often felt them concurrently. And, with that, here are some other dialectics I experienced this past year:

• I felt excited about being able to resume more travel after years of limiting health issues and I felt pain over the loss of this opportunity after the Covid19 pandemic shut downs.
• I felt protected with the shut downs and I felt frustrated with the limitations of them.
• I healed emotionally and I suffered emotionally.
• I felt empowered after setting boundaries with friends who don’t share my values for human rights and I grieved the loss of relationships that may never be the same.
• I felt isolated and I felt comfortable.
• I felt devastated for the loss of my planned April wedding and I felt joy for the marriage ceremony that took place in a different, meaningful way.
• I missed the intimate connections of providing in-person therapy and I witnessed the healing powers of teletherapy.
• I experienced anger toward people who are not willing to learn and grow and I set limits with how much I engage with people who are unwilling to learn and grow.
• After years of effort, I finally eliminated all toxic products from my house that I can control (fragrance, mainstream sunscreens, cleaning products, scented candles, makeup) and I became concerned with how I’ll reintegrate into a world where the grocery story laundry detergent aisle now gives me headaches.
• I felt heartbroken over missing two planned trips abroad and excited to spend more time exploring hiking trails in my own city.
• I accepted that I don’t have control of everything and I continued working to change things that I can control.
• I felt joy over painting our kitchen in April and frustration that half the kitchen is still ripped apart.
• I felt angry toward anti-maskers and their disinterest in social responsibility and I accepted that my anger would not change their behavior.
• I did my best and I continued to do better.
• I felt grateful to have maintained employment this year and also profound sadness for those who lost theirs.
• I found relief in identifying more answers to my cascading health issues with a suspected Chronic Lyme Disease diagnosis and felt enraged that my doctors dismissed my initial inquiry of this four years ago.

As I type this in early 2021, I feel hope for the U.S. with this morning’s results of the Georgia run-off election and hopelessness about the domestic terrorist attack that I’m currently witnessing on TV.

Of course, not everything has to be a dialectic. Some things I am just simply grateful for. So to close, here are a few points of gratitude from 2020:

• I finally became a proud plant mom of a growing plant family.
• I rebuilt my blog.
• I officially gained a second family of in laws, who I love dearly.
• I started partnering with Beautycounter, a safer skincare company that I trust and believe in.
• I did a lot of summer hiking, kayaking and safe exploring.
• I spent more time with my immediate family than I had in years.
• I eliminated my chronic brain fog for the first time in five years.
• Earth-warming carbon emissions and air pollution decreased due to canceled flights and decreased driving.

Stillness can be a challenge for many of us, with busy-bodies often viewing it as unproductive and the emotionally avoidant finding the pain of stillness intolerable. Yet, to be centered and grounded is the only way to survive a year like 2020 in a healthy, adaptive way. Some embraced the idea of self-growth, flexibility and acceptance throughout this iconic year. Others did not exercise this centeredness effectively. And, as I finish writing this post, I continue to watch some of these folks storm the U.S. Capitol Building in a heartbreaking and tragic display of unnecessary recklessness.

As with most historic events, it’s our job to learn from them. For me, I closed out this year not with New Years resolutions (I’ve never liked those things), but by remembering all those we lost during this historic year – whether to Covid-19, violence, the color of their skin, or otherwise. I am sad for these losses and I am empowered to do better in their memory, no matter how small my role may be in that.

Slow down, Mother Nature said in 2020. So, slow down we must. When the world is on fire, it’s on us to find our centers and stay cool so we can to put out the flames and rebuild.